Summer in my town is small and sleepy and all sorts of wonderful. Everything slows down and everyone re-discovers why it is they love this town. Our preamble to summer are the millions of bluebells that bloom on one of our most popular trails. When you stumble upon them sometime in April, it begins to dawn on you that the summer is really, actually, going to happen. Then the students, who make up about half of our population, begin to realize this as well, creating a frenzy about town, as they hurriedly write papers and study and read books that should have been read months ago. All of this activity culminates in a week and half purge of the town, as the students celebrate their freedom briefly before fleeing town with just the essentials. They leave behind couches and old t.v.s, clothes and books. In those last moments they are frantic to make themselves as light as possible, shedding anything that may weigh them down this summer. Then the hoarders and the deal-seekers drive about town, picking up what goods they have deem worthy from amongst the piles and piles of trash left behind. And then, the big moment, we pause, cock our ears to the sky and listen. Tentatively, we smell the air. We look back and forth. We drive Uptown, we find a parking spot and we all breath one collective sigh of air. The town has been reclaimed. For three blissful months it is ours and no one else'. Don't get me wrong, come August, we will all be longing for the hustle and bustle of the school and all its' attendees, but that doesn't mean we won't treasure our little town, when it does truly feel little.
Our annual wine festival, which takes place the weekend after this said purge, feels like the perfect way to celebrate this town. As the Boy and I make our way uptown, me beside him, holding his hand and taking two skips to his every one step (the Boy is tall), I vow to go to every festival, every Thursday night concert and wake up early to hit up the Farmer's Market every Saturday. It is hard not to declare such things, when you get to walk around your town park, listening to the lovely croonings of local musicians, drinking wine and drunkenly speaking to everyone you see. Everyone is practically drunk upon arrival, such is their overwhelming excitement at this ritual into summer.
The only point to this post is simply to say that today I am happy it is summer. Tomorrow, I will think about running again, to attempt to get my body lake-worthy and doing some much needed spring cleaning and I might even tackle the issue of my skin, which insists on being less porcelain and more of a searing white light when the sun shines directly upon it. But, today I will breath the honeysuckle on the air and listen to the loveliness that is the silence, where once were drunken cries and I will sigh in complete and utter happiness that it is Summer in my Town.
